


Potion of Revival

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2019 [31]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Breast Worship, Clothed Sex, Cock Slut, Cock Worship, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Cover Art, Crossdressing, Feminization, First Times, Fluff, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, High Heels, High Sex, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Improper use of potions, Kinktober 2019, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic, NSFW Art, Nipple Play, One Shot, Oral Sex, Panties, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Smut, Stockings, Virginity Kink, Wet & Messy, but from a potion lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 31. [Cum] Inflation | Corset | Aphrodisiacs | Body Worship | CrossdressingHe reads off the page as the enchanter says it aloud:“ ~ Ingredients for thePotion of Revival~Fox Squirrel Skulls, 100 wholeBlue Witswood Petals, Ground, 1 kgDeathcreep Thorns, Polished, 50 countThe “Throes-of-Passion”, 1 litrePure Spring Wat–”“ ‘The “Throes-of-Passion” ’? What is that? A fluid of some sort?”Morari simpers a smile. “Well, it’s pretty obvious when youreallytry to think about it, isn’t it..?”“Hm, I don’t–” Petill balks, eyes wide. “Wait… onelitre?”Morari giggles sheepishly.(Includes NSFW cover art.)
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2019 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1505270
Comments: 6
Kudos: 238
Collections: Abeastjob, Kinktober 2019





	Potion of Revival

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> Alright! 4 fucking days late for Kinktober, but better late than never to wrap this all up! :D 
> 
> This is an original fantasy-esque story with some NSFW cover art done by yours truly! It’s sized down to fit better on little mobile devices; there’s a link beneath the pic to an HD version if you want! 
> 
> Also, feel free to prompt/request writings and/or drawings through my Twitter DMs! (I am busy and somewhat picky [look through my Ao3 works to see the fandoms/pairings/kinks I’m interested in, please!], though, but maybe I’ll work your request into something else down the line! Also, I _do not owe_ you anything, so _please_ be polite! :] ) You can also follow me for updates on fics/art/whatever! 
> 
> Okay, enough blabbing, enjoy! <3

([Full Size Image](https://twitter.com/DevilOfWireNSFW/status/1191461895582179328?s=20))

Petill lets out a rather girlish scream as he’s suddenly hoisted into the air, thin, hard wires digging into his skin all around him.

“Hm, not the sort of sound I expected from such a _ large man, _but it will do.”

His eyes snap to the voice, seeing a woman standing there on the grass in oddly high heels, black stockings leading into an accented white heart at the top, a blue corseted dress with a fluffy white petticoat hiding the garter straps. The dark cloak shielding her from the fragments of a stubborn winter chill only just giving to spring flows behind her as she tilts her head, eyes suspicious before red locks fall upon them.

“What are you doing _ out here, townsman?” _ she asks, grabbing at the ends of her short skirt.

Petill writhes in the net he’s trapped in, strung up amidst the tree branches by a clever trap the enchantress must have laid out–

His eyes go wide.

_ The enchantress. _

_ The evil enchantress that lives in the woods. _

He looks to the woman the same time that she grins, ruffling the hem of her dress in excitement.

“Ah, finally snapped out of the trance of my beauty?” She giggles. “Stunning, I know. I work very hard for it!”

She crosses her arms over her small, but still noticeable chest. “Now, tell me already, why are you here? Come to steal my potions, my elixirs?”

“No!”

_ “Really? Somehow _ I doubt that.”

Petill frowns in the net, trapped helplessly in the air as he looks down to the enchantress. Her light eyes seem to gleam with power even then, the small green emerald on her necklace shining with what he can only assume is pure energy, magic. Outlawed and dangerous, only the isolated enchantress hidden deep in the forests on the outskirts of their town was foolish enough to play with it, to try to harness it.

Everyone knew her for a devil, a murderous, ugly witch who would stop at nothing to gain yet more power, more souls for her evil incantations which knew no bounds, moral or otherwise.

But, then again, she was _not_ _ugly._ Quite the opposite, actually. A round face, long lashes, thick legs, and a waist made impossibly slight under the black of the laced-up corset, she was _quite_ _attractive, _admittedly.

So, if the townspeople were clearly wrong about that… what else might they be wrong about?

But Petill knows he can’t win this fight with anything other than words, given his current position strung up amongst the leaves, so he opens his mouth and tries his best at a silver tongue.

“I… I came for your help, actually.”

The enchantress’s eyes widen, shiny lips parting in a gasp. “Really? My… help?”

“Yes. It is for a potion, but I do not wish to steal from you, my lady. I will assist you however possible, for it is vital to the survival of my employer.”

“Hm, that is rather unusual… But very tempti– _ wait didyoujustcallme _ ** _alady?”_ **

Petill can hardly understand her for the speed at which she says the last part, but nods. “Yes. Or perhaps you are a missus, instead..?”

She scoffs a laugh at that. “A _ missus? _ Far from it!” She squints at the guard tied up in the wires. “What would make you think me a _ lady?” _

_ What kind of question was that? _

“Well, you certainly look the part, madame. And all the townspeople regard you as such–” hm, but haggard and bitch weren’t quite the same as lady, were they..? “more or less.”

She plays with the hem of her dress, a red blush appearing to rise to her high cheeks in the morning light. “Hah, is that… is that right..?”

“Yes, of course. All of it.” He tries to wave his hand at her in the net, managing well enough so the enchantress’s gaze follows his large fingers. “I mean, simply look at you, in a full dress even though no one will ever see you? What else could you possibly be?”

She snickers, biting her lip. _ “A… man.” _

Petill stops even breathing in the net, stuck in a stupor which he can barely blink himself out of.

A female in all senses, dark lashes, a shapely figure, dressed in wear none of the ladies back in the village would _ dare _ lay a finger on for how… tempting it was.

She even had _ tits, _ tiny but still there, nipples obvious through the fine material of her dress, making Petill think _ impure _ thoughts.

And she was saying she was a _ he? _

Is he meant to _ laugh? _

“Well,” the enchantress—_enchanter?_—begins, “if you so _ direly _ need my assistance, I can still provide that. It _ will _ come with a cost, you will have to help me gather the ingredients and do other menial tasks, but I can do it with my power,” sh–_he _ says with a smile, toying with the jewel upon his collarbones.

Petill blinks.

This certainly was an unexpected turn of events, but… he did sorely need that potion.

“What is it for, anyway?” the enchanter asks.

“It’s for my dying mistress.”

His slight face sours at that. “Oh…” he begins to turn, skirt swishing behind him, “find another enchanter, I’m busy–”

“Not like that!” He turns on his tall heel. “Er, not like a romantic relationship… She is my boss. She owns the town’s main farm and I guard it from wolves and other monsters every night. She’s fallen deathly ill, unable to rise from bed, barely capable of drinking water at this point…”

“What, and you haven’t tried other remedies?”

“Oh no, we have. All sorts. Apothecary, doctor, shaman, herbs, liquids, scents, sulfurs, but nothing seems to work more than a day. She’s getting worse by the week.” The guard frowns. “I fear she will pass. And not only will that mean the end of my employment, but, more importantly, it means the town will be left in chaos as they war over who gets ownership.”

“What, she’s too dumb to say a name?”

Petill sighs. “She can’t even speak, she’s so weak.”

The enchanter rolls his eyes, but turns back fully to Petill, hands on his wide hips. “Fine. I know just the cure.”

Petill’s eyes light up. “Oh?”

“Yes. The potion of revival.”

“Potion of… revival? She’s not… dead.”

He snickers. “Oh, I know that! Don’t worry, it’s just the name of only the most powerful cure-all in all of the world! No death required… although it is a distinct possibility.” He claps his hands, “Anyway! I will help you make it. But, again, _ you _ must help _ me _gather the necessary ingredients.”

Petill feels his heart hammer in his ribs as the beautiful enchanter leans forward on his feet, heels digging into the dirt. “Do we have a deal, dear guard?”

Petill nods once and then feels himself falling to the earth, a snap and a giggle ringing in his ears as he falls to the ground hard.

“Morari.”

He groans, digging himself up to kneel on the ground before the man. “Morari?”

“Yes, Morari,” the enchanter confirms, amusement sparkling in his eyes, “What’s yours?”

He rises to his feet unsteadily, brushing the dirt from his knees. “Petill.”

Morari tilts his head, pursing his lips. _“Pet_-ill? Like a _ flower?” _

Petill grunts, crossing his muscular arms across his broad chest to stare the enchanter down, now much shorter and slighter than him. As it should be. “Pe-_till. _ It’s my great grandfather’s name, in honour.”

“Ah,” Morari hums, turning and beginning to waltz off into the forest in the opposite direction. “I feel sorry for him, too, then!” Morari glances over his shoulder nude by a cut-out in the dress. Petill wonders briefly if it’s hand-made before the doey look in his eyes distracts him entirely.

“Now, are you coming to see to my house, or are you just going to stand there like a dimwit?”

Petill follows after the enchanter after a second of having to accept his fate.

He must do this for his employer. Not only is she his boss, rewarding him handsomely for his work every night, but she is kind, honest. Certainly undeserving of such a cruel fate as being bed bound, pale and trembling in tired pain.

Yes, that’s _ entirely _why he’s doing this.

He does _ not _ watch the swing of Morari’s curvy hips, nor the careful placement of his thin heels on the uneven terrain, every footfall placed right in front of the other.

And he does _ not _ stare at Morari’s pale, fleshy thighs at all as he trails behind him. Definitely does _ not _ notice the way they jiggle with fat every-so-slightly on every step, skirt sometimes raising in the breeze to reveal under the white petticoat a sliver of black, a subtle hint of something too much between his round ass to be female, indeed.

Yes, Petill does _ not _do any of that the entire half-hour long journey to Morari’s cottage in the woods spent mostly in a tense silence.

…

God, Petill was going to die by this enchanter, after all.

* * *

He reads off the page as the enchanter says it aloud:

_ “ ~ Ingredients for the _ ** _Potion of Revival_ ** _ ~ _

  1. _ Fox Squirrel Skulls, 100 whole_
  2. _ Blue Witswood Petals, Ground, 1 kg _
  3. _ Deathcreep Thorns, Polished, 50 count _
  4. _ The “Throes-of-Passion”, 1 litre _
  5. _ Pure Spring Wat–” _

“ ‘The “Throes-of-Passion” ’? What is that? A fluid of some sort?”

Morari simpers a smile. “Well, it’s pretty obvious when you _ really _ try to think about it, isn’t it..?”

“Hm, I don’t–” Petill balks, eyes wide. “Wait… one _ litre?” _

Morari giggles sheepishly.

Petill is suddenly regretting accepting the enchanter’s help.

“So…” he says awkwardly, leaning back from the heavy, weathered book on the dark oak table, “you’re going to get that somehow?”

Morari shakes his head, snickering with a sympathetic frown. “Oh, no, I’m afraid.” His long, thin fingers flip through the gold trim of the pages, the book falling open just to the right page.

_ “ ~ The ‘Throes-of-Passion’ ~ _

_ A powerful concoction composed purely of fluids created by the human sexual organs. Must be less than a week fresh for all potions unless otherwise noted; must be from willing, conscious individuals; must be collected from _ ** _two_ ** _ people engaged in an _ ** _enjoyable _ ** _ sexual act of some kind,” _ Morari reads, shutting the book with a long nail and staring Petill right in the eyes as he whispers, ** _“no exceptions.”_ **

Petill swallows hard.

“Well,” he coughs, “then I will do my best to collect that, s-somehow!”

Morari giggles, sighing. “Oh, no. I think not. A _ litre, _ remember? Perhaps you could convince one or two adventurous couples to allow you to capture their cum, but that would only be, meh, maybe ten millilitres _ at best. _ We’re aiming for a _ hundred _times that, dear Petill.”

“Then that’s _ impossible.” _

Morari snickers, crossing his legs in the chair. “I don’t think so,” he mutters, propping his head on a fist as he looks Petill’s body up and down, built solid and strong but still slightly lean enough. “With two males it’s twice the volume of ejaculate, you know; simple maths… Fuck a few times a day, we should be able to do it…”

Petill leans back in repulsion, edging toward the door subconsciously. “A-ah, no. I am _ not _ going to do that. Sorry, just, no.”

Morari huffs, leaning back in his seat. “What? Am I not attractive enough?”

“Well, we just met, for one.”

“We can get to know each other by having sex.”

“You’re a man.”

“Your dick doesn’t seem to care, right now nor before it knew that.”

“I don’t know if you’re carrying anything.”

Morari snickers, squeezing his thighs further together as his heels drag on the wooden floor. _ “I’m a virgin.” _

Petill clenches his fists. He feels heat pool in his body despite his better-thinking brain at those words, having to resist the strong urge to look over to the enchanter whose stare he can feel the heat on the side of his skull.

It’s tempting, so, so tempting. But he just can’t do it. He’d just met Morari, and, even more, he was certainly a male, and that just wasn’t _ right. _

_ “Do you want her to die?” _

Petill turns his head, glaring. _ “Of course _ I don’t. But I-I… I can’t do this.”

“Oh,” Morari frowns, “I know. It’s hard. But no one has to know. It will just be our little secret in the middle of the woods, alright? Just something to save her, to collect ingredients so you’ll have your potion. Nothing more. It doesn’t have to be.”

A shiver races up Petill’s spine at Morari’s clear words from across the room, his voice soft and understanding. He has a feeling the enchanter is lying, tricking him. That’s what he’s been led to believe for years now, that the enchantress in the forest was a trickster who rarely let off people who’d caught her alive.

But _ maybe _they were all wrong.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

Morari hums in approval, smiling slightly without showing his white teeth.

Petill feels his body flush in the cozy warmth of the noon room, the entire house for it was rather small, looking to the sunlight pouring in from a window adorned with curtains turning the light red, to the bed just under it upon the alcove of the beveled windowsill.

He hears Morari’s heels click across the floorboards, all the way over to him where they stop, red wisps of hair falling in the corner of his vision as Morari whispers into the shell of his ear:

_ “Now go find some fox squirrels and kill them.” _

Well.

He certainly didn’t expect that.

But Morari’s nails dig into his back, pushing him forward and toward the door so he has no choice but to shuffle down the steps, out into the trees to murder some innocent woodland creatures, a high giggling behind him the _ entire _way.

Maybe he would kill the enchanter before he could kill him, actually.

* * *

Petill grimaces, wiping the dried blood from his hands in the basin near the door. “I still don’t understand how it’s possible…”

Morari tilts his head, leisurely crushing flower petals with a mortar and pestle on his comfy bed, making Petill thoroughly jealous. “What is?”

“The… the ‘Throes-of-Passion’.”

“Oh, how so?”

Petill let out a low sigh, flicking water off his nails. “Well, even if we… have sex… ten times a day, seven days a week, ten millilitres from the both of us, that’s only 700 millilitres, at best.” He groans, wiping his hands dry on a cloth. “And I don’t know about you, but I _ definitely _can’t do it ten times in a day.”

“Well then,” Morari chuckles, _ “clearly _you’re not trying hard enough.” He puts the bowl down on a nightstand near the bed, laying down on his stomach, looking up to Petill. He’s nothing left to do, ten skulls of creatures quickly put out with mercy left scrubbed white on the desk.

Well, there is _ always _something to do, though, isn’t there? Potion-making is hard work, after all.

“And have you already forgotten, plain guard? I am an _ enchanter,” _he says, reaching towards the nightstand to grab one of the many unlabelled potions off of it. “I have the power to change the human body with one mere sip of my wonderful elixirs.”

He takes the potion coloured with blue liquid to his lips, closing his eyes in something like delight as he drinks a few glugs of it, returning it to his bed only slightly lower in water level. He wipes the cobalt from his mouth, sighing. “Oh, it’s delicious.” He thrusts it forward in a slender hand. “Try some?”

Petill squints, looking at Morari whose head is tilted just as the bottle’s is, the liquid pooling just around the raised rim but not _ quite _ spilling out just yet. 

“What is it?”

Morari giggles, hiccups and then giggles some more. Combined with the flush on his face, he almost looks drunk. “It’s called a potion of potency. I’m _ sure _you can figure out why…”

His thin fingers wiggle the clear bottle again, refracting the dying light off of it into Petill’s eyes. “C’mon,” Morari whines, _ “try _it. We need all the help we can get. This will be the first round, just think!”

Morari sighs when Petill still hesitates, shifting up on his elbows to curve his spine, ass raised in the air underneath his spilling skirts, tits rising just above the covers. “Just think of it, Petill. How much fun it will be! I’ll wrap my little hand around your cock—I’m sure it’ll be too big to fit—and jack you off nice and hard until you cum into this bottle,” he clicks his fingers against an empty one next to him.

Morari smiles, kicking his calves in the air behind him, high heels now off to show the dark stockings covering his toes curling in anticipatory pleasure, “And I’ll let you do the exact same thing to me. I’m sure my load won’t be as big as yours, but that hardly matters.”

He shakes the bottle one last time. “Drink it, Petill. I won’t make you regret it, promise.” Morari winks.

Petill takes a step forward despite himself, taking the bottle with an unsteady hand, a volt of electricity running up his spine as their fingertips brushing together.

He’s unsure, hesitating to press the potion against his lips. But Morari shifts before him on the soft bed, grinding his hips down against the sheets. _ “Come on, Petill,” _ he whimpers, _ “I’m waiting!” _

So Petill tips it to guzzle some of it down, the blue fluid coating his tongue with something tasting sweet and savoury, like a syrup of candy, but not too too rich so it’s sickening.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Morari calls, Petill ripping the bottle away from his mouth almost regretfully. It _ had _ been rather _ nice, _actually.

“Mm,” Morari hums, continuing to circle his hips and rut his cocklet into the covers, “I forgot to mention it also increases stamina and strength…” Petill’s eyes widen, making Morari laugh. “And it also heightens one’s sex drive…” he puts the potion down so he can play with his tits, moaning, _ “quite a bit, as you can see…” _

Petill feels his body become hot, the world almost seeming to change around him, becoming more vivid, brighter, Morari before him seeming even more fucking tantalizing somehow as he writhes on the bed in his dress, staring right up at him with heavily lidded eyes, mouth parted to let out little noises of pleasure.

“Come on, Petill,” Morari pants, twisting his hard nipples through the thin layer of his blue dress, _ “fuck me!” _

Petill walks up to kneel on the bed in a second, Morari moving up and back to make room on the small thing. Morari lets him crowd him into the corner between the pillows and the window, moving his hands from his breasts down to Petill’s belt to get the damn thing off already, feeling the magic of the elixir really begin to work him down, reduce him to a needy, drooling mess of a man.

He’s used the potion of potency before, by himself. Sometimes he’d jerk off, sometimes he’d play with his nipples until he came from that alone, sometimes he’d fuck his ass with his fingers or some tool that mimics a cock well enough to make his prick leak semen like an endless tap further heightened by the potion. 

He tosses the belt away and unzips Petill’s pants as fast as is humanly possible, pulling from them a cock indeed massive, bulging in his hand which instinctively comes to wrap around its girth. Veins run up and down its length, pre beginning to drip from the slit at the reddened top and run down to Morari’s waiting hand.

He slides his fingers up to the head, collecting the already overwhelming amount of seed and coating Petill’s crown with it, getting it glossy with cum. Petill keeps dripping, leaking, an unusual amount of semen that makes Morari smile, knowing the potent potion is doing its work perfectly. He wets his hand in it, lubing it up, before slowly dragging down Petill’s cock.

Petill groans all the way to the base, skin feeling practically on fire beneath Morari’s soft, careful touch. The potion seems to have made his senses more keen, touch especially, so the pleasure is almost unbearable just from a simple hand job, Morari moving slow still, not even really jacking him off.

Yet, simultaneously, he doesn’t feel the need to cum, as he thinks he would had he felt a sensation such as this otherwise. The stamina. It makes it so he can last longer, as well, orgasm a far-off feeling, letting him enjoy Morari’s sleek flesh sliding up and down his, sending shocks of intense pleasure that alights across his entire body.

Morari moves his hips to the side, whimpering as his cock trapped beneath his panties brushes against the silk hem and the inside of his dress. 

Petill’s hand moves down at the sound, loud in his ear even though it’s soft, sliding under Morari’s fluffy skirt to feel underneath it at his cocklet. His finger immediately brushes slick skin, blindly reaching up to find the unmistakable rim of his cockhead and fingering underneath it, drawing keens from Morari. Fuck, doing this alone felt _ wonderful, _ but _ this? _ This was _ fucking ungodly. _

Morari pumps his hand up and down Petill’s cock soaked in cum, canting his hips off the bed and whining while Petill’s rough fingers work his own prick.

_ “Mmmmn,” _ Morari moans, stroking his fingertips over Petill’s leaking slit, “ah, _ yessss, Petill, _ hah,” he leans forward, pressing his head into Petill’s large chest, Petill reaching down to move the red hair from his face to watch him moan, _ “nnnn, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me fuck me fuck me, ahh!” _

Petill’s large hand fits easily and then some around Morari’s slender cock, fucking up and down from the very base of his tight balls to his slippery cockslit, the sheer volume of cum unbelievable, just keeps pouring, and pouring, right down his tip, soaking into his panties, between the fat of his thighs to drip into his dress rumpled beneath his ass.

Morari bucks his hips into the hole of Petill’s hand, doing his best to concentrate on his giant cock all the while, slipping a second hand from clutching the bedspread to run over Petill’s hanging balls, curling around his base while he still fucks his other hand up and down.

His stamina might be increased by the potion, but Morari feels himself begin to draw near the all-encompassing heat of orgsam, pressure growing in his loins, between his thighs, and so he presses them together. To stave it off, to encourage it, he doesn’t even know anymore. Just wants, can’t think, just wants, wants, _ wants. _

And he gets it, cum shooting from his prick as he squeezes his eyes shut, a wracking moand falling from his mouth as he just cums, cums, and cums some more. His orgasm a typical mere seconds seems to last an entire minute, an entire _ minute _ spent in white-hot heaven, ejaculating warm cum onto his belly, in utter bliss.

He blinks his eyes slowly, returning to reality bit by bit.

And then Morari’s eyes snap open.

“Fuc–”

“It’s okay.”

Morari looks from Petill’s lax face to his own lap, seeing that his skirt is pulled up, petticoat and all, to reveal his cock finally to the air.

But not only that, for Petill holds in his firm grip a clear glass potion covered white by the bottom third with pure, warm cum, Morari’s. It looks milky, Morari almost tempted to drink it in his sexual stupor before he remembers it must serve a purpose, after all.

So instead, he just smiles up at Petill, receiving a slight grin in return, before pumping his hand hard around Petill’s cock still within it, making the man groan loudly.

Morari snickers, straddling Petill’s wide legs and jacking him off with one hand, taking the glass bottle in the other and using it to catch the steadily flowing cum from his slit, watching it dribble down the lip of the potion and leave gooey trails of semi-clear semen in its wake before mixing with Morari’s slightly more watery seed at the bottom.

With one last swipe of his thumb over Petill’s crown, the guard shudders, making a choked sound as he cums straight into the open mouth of the glass bottle, shooting hard enough that it displaces the liquid inside and makes it spurt out. Morari quickly adjusts, pressing the rounded rim straight to Petill’s cockhead so it splashes and merely coats his pink flesh in their combined cum, yet more shooting still from his cockslit to fill the elixir right up.

Morari gasps as Petill continues to cum a whole fucking minute later, watching as the _ entire _bottle fills up with the sheer amount of his load.

And Petill just keeps ejaculating, the semen becoming becoming creamy, frothing with little white bubbles as Morari moves it back so Petill’s excess cum can shoot out, hitting the white liquid within before spilling right down and onto their combined laps.

By the time Petill is _ finally _ done cumming, Morari’s hand, the outside of the potion as well as the inside, of course, the covers, Petill’s pants, Morari’s skirt, it’s all _ covered _in semen.

Morari flicks his hand off and then tries to wipe the bottle clean, pursing his lips as he sees globs of creamy cum just keep sticking and smearing on the glass, with a sigh leaning his tits over Petill’s face to just put it back on the nightstand for now. He’ll have Petill clean it later.

“Mm,” Morari hums, reaching his nails down to play with Petill’s still-hard cock, “how was that?” he snickers, “You don’t regret it, do you?”

Petill shakes his head, overcoming after bliss. “No, no, I don’t at all.”

“Well, you did a _ very _good job, Petill!”

“I did?”

Morari nods excitedly, his small breasts shaking with the movement and drawing Petill’s eyes toward them. “Oh, yes! Such a spectacular job, in fact, that I’m sure that was at least 100 millilitres! So we’ll only have to do this nine more times and then we’ll have it all!”

Petill glances to the side, almost seeming to pout. “Ah, is that so?”

Morari leans forward on the bed, taking Petill’s chin between his fingers and gazing into his forlorn eyes with amused ones. “That’s all we _ have _ to do. It’s not all we _ can _do.”

Morari glances to the window beside them, the dying red rays catching on their sides and throwing long shadows across the room, now.

The harlot swirls his finger around Petill’s still-soaking cockslit, feeling his own cock throb with need despite having just cum enough for an entire week, normally. Another effect of the potion, little to no refractory period.

“What do you say?” Morari whispers right next to Petill’s lips, looking down into his eyes as he brushes his glossy ones to his as he says, “Another round before you leave for the night?”

Petill glances outside. It’s late, he should probably get going to return nice and early, but…

His cock twitches under Morari’s cloying fingers, making the enchanter smile darkly.

* * *

They keep on like that for a while. Over the days, Petill returns to the clearing which they met in early every morning, going to collect the other oddly specific ingredients for the potion for the day. Usually, Morari lends him the more frustrating tasks, letting him run off after squirrels only to realize they were grey and not red in the warm light, learning to be silent as a panther as he stalked after the rodents to collect their precious skulls, all one hundred of them.

Morari gives him the duty of collecting the deathcreep thorns, the weeds tough and wiry, sticking like velcro to flesh, giving it its dreaded name. But Petill has to fight on, ripping with reinforced steel gloves the dagger-sharp thorns from the plant to set them into a basket increasing in lethality by the hour.

Meanwhile, Morari skampers after him, giggling as he’s left to find patches of witswood and pick only the blue ones, later having the easy but dull task of grinding the petals to a fine pulp for the recipe.

They chat over the sounds of wood and bone, getting to know one another over the hours which wear to the afternoon—Petill learning then that Morari’s body was not entirely natural, a magic potion he drinks once a week keeping him abnormally girlish all over, something he did simply because he liked it somehow—then to evening, their jobs usually done by the time it becomes sunset.

And very well for that, because there was one final job that always needs doing: fucking.

Lots and lots of fucking.

It’s probably overkill, they could’ve reached the amount had they done it merely once a day, but the potion of potency proves almost addictive in nature, both of them guzzling it until they were high and drunk and giddy with it, ready for hours of sex until the sun died in streaks of purple and blue across the sky, Petill only then yanking his pants up and tying his belt to bid a sad Morari farewell for the night.

But at least he returns the very next morning—the nights usually having little to no commotion other than a stray cat, thankfully—greeting the enchanter with an easy smile, prepared for the menial labour so long as it means he gets to fuck Morari at the end of the day.

And Morari is always _ more _than happy to put out.

Perhaps he’s really the one that’s more excited, but who’s to say.

So he jacks Petill off, sometimes three times in a row; blows him and makes such a fuss about spitting the load in his plump cheeks out that Petill lets him swallow it, the excess he could never hope to fit in his mouth allowed to collect in yet another potion, beginning to line the shelves in their numbers.

Morari lets Petill rim him and milk the seminal fluid from his prostate straight into a glass, and when that fills up, giggles as he replaces it with his lips on his cockhead, drinking the thin streams of cum until it fills his belly nice and warm, Morari shooting down his throat and all over his face for him to lick up later himself.

They fuck so much they know each other’s bodies like the back of their own hands—_exactly _ where to push, how to pull, twist, thrust, to make the other _ scream _in pleasure—by the time the seventh day rolls around, the “Throes-of-Passion” having neared its expiration date.

They lay out on the bed, grins on their faces as they’re _ finally _done with all the rest of the ingredients, put neatly into Morari’s cauldron, only the cum still in corked bottles left to be added, as well as Morari’s magical energies.

Petill slides his hands scarred with deathcreep thorn marks up and down the smooth fabric of Morari’s stockings, over the familiar garters as Morari giggles under his touches, rather affectionate.

“You want it _ that _bad, Petill?”

Petill’s smile clicks in Morari’s ear, breathing a laugh. “Yeah, I want to fuck you, Morari.” He grabs him by the hips. _ “Actually.” _

Morari tilts his hips up, the skirt falling down to reveal his hard cocklet poking out of his panties, nude skin basking in the warmth of the sunset. “Oh, _ please do.” _ He snickers.

Large fingers dig into either leghole of his underwear, pulling up and down on them slowly to rub on Morari’s sex, making him sigh in pleasure until he’s revealed entirely, panties slid down to mid-thigh level around the tops of his stockings.

Petill ignores Morari’s prick in favour of running his fingers over his pink hole, circling around his rim still slightly puffy from yesterday’s hour-long rimming session.

He’s handed a potion, taking it without looking for how familiar it is by now. He pops the cork with his teeth, spitting it onto the covers so he can pour some of the liquid out onto his fingers.

Fresh cum, from just last night, still entirely fluid for the tight seal and some potential magic kept in the bottle. He wets his fingers until they’re sopping wet, placing the bottle on the sill of the window for later.

He fucks two fingers into Morari’s tiny hole, watching them disappear inside of his flesh gleaming with their combined cum, spreading and stretching around him almost naturally at this point.

He scissors his fingers inside of him, rubs the hardness of his prostate gland with expertise, all this nothing he hasn’t done many times before.

He joins another finger inside of Morari, drinking in the whimper he makes, watching his cunt spread further open to take him readily, just like the rest of him, _ an easy slut. _

Petill thrusts his fingers in and of Morari until his guts are thoroughly slicked, his moans ones of pure liquid pleasure. He withdraws, staring right into Morari’s fucked out eyes as he licks up their cum, an ever so slight flavour of Morari’s clean hole adding a fleshy tang to it.

Petill grabs Morari by his corseted sides, manhandles him like an utter doll to flip him onto his hands and knees.

Morari gasps a squeak of pure excitement, raising his ass in the air and feeling through his skirts Petill whipping his belt off, growing only more giddy with the sounds of him unzipping his meaty cock. So, so ready for it, curving his back as far as he can, drooling onto the pillows, his cock leaking silver, glittery streams of precum dripping from his tip and catching the sunlight.

Petill presses his cock to Morari’s slightly stretched hole, feeling it clench around the skin barely beginning to dip inside of his pussy.

“Mm, _ yeah,” _ Morari breathes, canting his hips further up but staying still enough so Petill can fuck his cock inside of him slow, “put it inside of me, Petill, God, _ yes!” _

Petill takes his cock in hand at the base and slowly guides it forward into Morari’s tight cunt, moving his hips forward until his cockhead begins to breach inside, so tight it almost hurts, but he carries on regardless, pressing forward so more of his length is fed inside.

Morari writhes beneath him, panting heaving breaths, the feeling of being fucked for the very first time made further intense by the drugging effects of the potency potion, intensifying the pleasure as well as the pain.

But Morari’s kind of a sucker for pain anyway, making him clench down on Petill’s cock growing inside of him so then it will hurt only more, Petill’s large body crashing down on him as he fucks his cock in forward a pressure just enough to ache his muscles and bones. And God, he _ loves _it all.

Petill’s thick, veiny cock goes all the way up his guts until it reaches the very end of his rectum, thankfully bottoming out just at that point. Morari wiggles his ass on Petill’s cock, clenching and unclenching his pussy to feel the immense weight inside of him.

God, he’s _ full _ of cock. Stretched and hot, the emptiness inside of him _ finally _ filled with Petill’s massive girth, it feels _ so fucking good _ that Morari swears he’s going _ crazy. _

Petill thrusts out of him to the mushroom of his cockhead, then back in with his hips, letting his hands come down on Morari’s wide hips as he begins to fuck him fast and hard.

He feels like liquid heat, their cum making the slide wet and easy, cunt so damn tight around him it’s mind-numbing, turning him into a ruthless animal only capable of chasing its pleasure, thrusting its cock deep into the tight pussy before it thoughtlessly.

_ “Mm, ah, yes, Pe-Petill, hah, you, fuck, me, soooooo, goooodd! Ah, fuck!” _ Morari whines between thrusts, pressed down hard into the mattress with each fuck behind him.

Petill trails his hands up Morari’s chest all the way to his tits, sliding under the hem of his dress to feel them beneath it. He snaps his hips hard, huffing, as he takes his slight breasts out of his chestpiece, feeling them jiggle and slap against his skin with each strong thrust, just barely hanging above the bed.

Petill’s slamming into Morari’s prostate, getting him all wound up so he feels the familiar pressure build between his hips, a white ball of plasma spelling his end.

_ “Hah, ah, I’m, _ ** _cumming!”_ **

Petill’s hands squeeze down on Morari’s tits enough to _ sting, _ that almost alone enough to make him finally spill, wipsy streams of ejaculate bursting from his cock onto the bed, potion forgotten in all the kerfuffle.

Morari’s hole tightens around Petill’s cock so much it makes it hard to thrust in and out of him, a hot vice pressing into his creamy flesh that makes him orgasm on one final, balls-deep thrust inside of Morari, shooting his immense load by the potency potion right into the end wall of his insides, something Morari can _ definitely _ feel. It all makes Morari’s own climax even more intense once again, so much so he feels a peak, wonders faintly if he might be cumming _ again, _ before he’s even stopped the first one.

Petill pumps him full of cum until his hands slide from Morari’s aching tits to his waist, curious. Sure enough, he feels the white laces of the corset sliding on their own, Morari groaning in discomfort as the pleasant restriction grows to a tightness around his stomach too much for comfort. His thin fingers reach for the ribbon shakily, pull it and the whole corset falls open, letting him breathe fully with a rib cage with room enough now.

They both feel around Morari’s belly as Petill keeps cumming inside of him, filling his guts with so much semen it displaces his organs, weighing them down until there’s a noticeable, steadily expanding bump in his lower abdomen, just above his crotch.

_ “Mmm,” _ Morari moans, “ah, now that’s _ fucking awesome…” _

As his orgasm subsides to mere beads of cum joining the wet cream inside of Morari, Petill begins to pull out only to have two clawed hands dig into his knees, holding him down stubbornly.

“Don’t we need to put into an elixir, Morari?”

“No!”

Petill furrows his brow as Morari looks back at him, cock still buried inside of his hole which twitches around him as he smiles.

“We already have _ two _ litres, _ at least.” _

Petill looks up to the high shelf near the ceiling above Morari’s cauldron, lined with various potions of many colours, but the topmost dedicated solely to a row of ones filled with white, unlabeled so no one would know very well what they were at first glance.

The “Throes-of-Passion”. Twenty bottles total he counts, and wants to slap himself for being so dim.

But then again, connected with Morari at his most sensitive part, still hard as a rock inside of his tight, wet cunt, would he even have stopped fucking the enchanter?

His beautiful blue eyes shine with purples of the light, sparkle in the death of the sun. Coyly begging him to be fucked once again as he tilts his head and his hips just the slightest bit, making Petill want both the man for his allure and his pussy for its heat.

Petill forgets that he needs to be going, choosing instead to grab Morari and press him onto his back into the sheets, sheathing his cock back into its rightful hole and loving Morari’s cry of pleasure.

* * *

“Ah, fuck!”

Morari frowns, beginning to feel the ache in his ass, hips, arms, and tits now that the numbing high of the potion and the sex is wearing off.

“What is it?”

Petill waves frantically to the window, pitch but for a sliver of a thin crescent moon. “That! God, I’m so fucking late, Morari!” he shouts in total frustration, struggling to realign his belt loops.

Morari sighs on the bed, hand moving to the nightstand to try to find the wooden peg–ah, there it is.

He looks over and says even as he slides it inside of himself to keep the four massive loads warm in his guts for _ at least _the night, “You know those other potions I had you try before you left every night?”

Petill squints, memories of potions of green and orange and yellow lighting in his mind’s eye. “Sure. You said they were for well-being and good health.”

“Yes, well, that’s true. But I also threw in a potion of good luck and fortune.” He flops onto his back, sitting on his tailbone for the wince sitting on the fat of his ass causes. “Very hard to make, that one. But I thought it worth it, just for you and your duties.”

Petill’s eyes were wide at Morari’s sly smile.

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Why do you think you haven’t had to fight off any trolls, goblins, or direwolves?” Morari takes a random potion from the dresser and shakes it in its cork, creating fizzing bubbles within it. “It’s all because of my magic, dear Petill! Has a way not only of changing one’s body, but also their very fate, if you let it!”

Morari rises onto his wobbly knees, ignoring Petill’s dumb shocked expression so he can walk over to the cauldron on feet made warm by his dark stockings. He raises onto his tippy-toes to reach for the “Throes-of-Passion”, collecting them four at a time and placing them down onto a table so he can pop the cork one by one, pour the slimy liquid of their ridiculous amounts of cum into the black of the giant iron receptacle.

After he has ten, Petill’s finally wise enough to have strode by his shoulder, a little back for his still-remaining fear of magic.

This is the first time he will have seen the enchanter actually make a potion, ingredients apparently rare and oddly specific as they are, as well as the potion of revival taking up all their time. He feels both dizzy with excitement and fear, watching Morari take out a long wooden cane and thrust it into the disgusting mixture of assorted organic material that barely fills the bottom of the huge cauldron. Why must it be so big–

His question is immediately answered by reality, under Morari’s swirling wrists and his focused eyes, the concoction begins to bubble and grow in volume. The emerald of his necklace glows with green light, his magic turning the innocuous substance into a homogenous mixture that begins to take on a rosy colour, bubbling and snapping and fizzling until it reaches half the cauldron’s height.

It begins to froth, foaming with pink and crackling with magic. Petill gasps, Morari giggling wickedly as he swirls only faster, faster, faster still. The cauldron fills with the liquid one hundred fold of what it used to be, a fine, thin fluid under the cream of the froth which builds in a second to its rim, begins to boil over and spill out so Petill takes a terrified step back, missing his heel and falling to his ass on the ground, hard.

But just before the foam can begin hitting the ground, it all reverses. It becomes a mist that flies through the air, all of it, a small stream of liquid that pours audibly like water from a pitcher, right into a clear glass bottle that Morari holds down on the table, shaking with the force of the magic siphoning the mixture into it.

Morari pops the cork and turns to laugh at Petill still on the ground, shaking the potion up and down, just for good measure.

“Here you go!” he says with glee, thrusting the magenta potion right into Petill’s face.

Petill takes it in trembling fingers.

“And tell your employer never to mess with warlocks again!” Morari yells, crossing his arms and stamping a foot.

“Wh-what do you mean? Warlocks?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it! Slight a warlock, you get a nasty curse only a damn potion of revival can fix! Tell her to stop fucking with them,” he says, anger transforming into a sly grin, “because there are much better ways to ensure good weather and yield.” He pats a hand onto his chest, fluttering his lashes and smiling.

“In fact,” Morari mutters, “maybe you could convince her to just let you be my assistant, hm? Help me with the _ immense _ work of crafting potions so you can bring them back to the town? I’m sure she can find any old oaf to throw around a sword and kill some monsters in the meantime, once she’s well again, of course.”

Morari steps forward, helping Petill to his feet and then reaching up to his hair, a light brown, grinning. “A wonderful hair colour, just right for potions of wealth and good will,” he slides his hands all the way down Petill’s face to his arm and then his hands, grabbing his rough nails, “and these could make for great potions of fortification, good if a dragon ever strikes the town!”

And, of course, Morari can’t help but point to Petill’s cock still outlined even as it’s soft in his pants. “And the ‘Throes-of-Passion’ are incredibly useful for many other potions, you know. From beautification to fire resistance to sweet tea. An oddly common ingredient, really. Ah, and I’d love nothing more than to farm some of that _ all _ day, and _ all _night…”

Petill clears his throat, nodding. “Yes. That all sounds… yes.”

Morari giggles, pressing the potion into his chest. “Be careful with it,” he whispers, “she needs only drink a little, then you can keep it on hand for if anything else befalls the townspeople. A high luxury, though, might wanna tax them!” he giggles.

He presses on his hard abs, coaxing him to the door. “Now, I have to clean up the mess you made! Tell me what happens immediately tomorrow morning at five. If you do a good job, we can fuck all day tomorrow, even outside of my cot!” Morari pulls the door open, a hand on his hip as he waves Petill goodnight.

“And if you make me scream myself hoarse, I _ just might _ let you stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ty for reading! 
> 
> How was the art? I’d like to have drawn more for this fic, but unfortunately that would mean this would have taken all fucking month, lol! 
> 
> Please consider hitting the kudos or comment button if you enjoyed this! Lets me know you actually liked it! <3


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